


The Art of Shaving

by TriaKane



Series: Designated Hitter [8]
Category: Leverage
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Falling In Love, It's CK!!, Not apologizing for my Mary Sue anymore, OFC is an immortal telepath, Shaving, promises of the future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-01 18:08:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16289345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriaKane/pseuds/TriaKane
Summary: Eliot asks Lyn for a favor.





	The Art of Shaving

**Author's Note:**

> Immediate sequel to [Sleeping In](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5814319).

The next morning, over breakfast, I stroked Eliot’s thick beard and asked, “You keeping this?”

“Thinkin’ ‘bout it,” he said, putting his hand on my hand and halting the caress. “Ya like it?”

I tilted my head back and forth, pretending to study him and it. I thought the beard made him look like more of a badass, which was good, but with a face as nice as his, it was a shame to cover it. His usual scruff was sexy and left plenty of his face bare.

“Yes,” I told him, “but I like your face either way.”

Smiling, he pulled my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles softly before rubbing them across his moustache. I laughed and pulled my hand away, reaching for my coffee cup and taking a sip to try and hide my reaction. I’d take him any way I could have him.

He ran a hand roughly through his beard and sighed loudly.

“‘s kinda itchy,” he said.

I nodded in agreement, thinking about how itchy hair growing in could be, and missed his comment.

“Excuse me?”

“Shave it for me,” he said, winking.

_How could I say no?_

***

The kitchen was empty (and spotless) when I returned from a quick errand, so I headed upstairs. I could hear the shower running and pushed open the door soundlessly.

Through the glass shower door I watched him—head tilted back, water coursing down his body, his soapy hands sliding down his chest. I was frozen in place, mesmerized; he was the perfect example of sexuality and masculinity all rolled into one.

I wasn’t sure when he realized I was watching but the moment he took his cock in his hand and stroked it, I raised my eyes to meet his.

“Wanna join me?” he asked, a half-smile on his face.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Setting the bag I was carrying on the bathroom counter, I quickly undressed, knowing he was watching. Eager to be in his arms again, my body thrummed in excitement.

Stepping into the shower, Eliot pulled me to him, wrapping his arms around me. His tongue teased my lips open and he kissed me deeply, his hands sliding over my wet skin. 

I slid my hand down his warm skin and fisted his erection. He bucked into my caress and sighed against my lips. 

Continuing to stroke him, I pulled back to watch his face. I enjoyed seeing him turned on and flushed, but even more, I relished the moment he lost control under my touch.

Still watching him, I knelt and took his cock between my lips. He leaned against the shower wall and surrendered to the pleasure I was giving him. 

His thoughts encouraged me to hurry, but instead, I used long, measured strokes and took my time. I slowly brought him to the edge, each stroke, each lick, each suck, pushing him closer and closer to completion. When he finally came, his hands were clenched in fists and his legs were trembling. 

Smiling up at him, I waited until he opened his eyes and met mine. He reached for me, slipping his hands under my arms and pulling me up. I knew what he had in mind, but I had other ideas.

“Take care of me later.” I told him before stepping out of the shower.

Grabbing a towel, I quickly dried off, then bent over and wrapped it around my wet hair before slipping into a terrycloth bathrobe.

I heard the water shut off and watched in the mirror as Eliot stepped from the shower. Briskly he dried off before wrapping the towel around his waist. He met my eyes in the mirror before he picked up a wide-tooth comb and ran it though his wet hair.

Handing me the comb when he was done, Eliot sat down on the stool at the vanity. He watched as I took my hair down and combed it. It was a little disconcerting having him watch my every move, but his thoughts were full of happiness and contentment, and I gave myself over to it.

I turned to him and lifted his chin, studying the beard. I ran the comb through it, trying to decide if I should trim it first. Deciding against it, I dropped the comb on the counter and reached for the container of shaving cream.

“Where’d you get all this?” he asked, holding up a black fine shaving brush.

“A shop up the street.” I told him. “ _The Art of Shaving_.”

He watched intently as I took the brush, dampened it and swirled it in the shaving cream. Leaning back against the counter, he closed his eyes when I started lathering him up. 

“What’s the scent?” he asked.

“Sandalwood. Thought you might like it.”

He hummed in response as I swirled the shaving cream through his beard with light strokes. Leaving the shaving cream to soften the hair, I put the brush down and pulled open a drawer, picking up an antique straight razor. It had once belonged to Methos but had found its way into my possession some fifty years ago. 

Feeling Eliot’s eyes on me, I opened the straight razor.

“Do I wanna know why you have that?” he asked with a hint of amusement.

“Girl can never be too careful,” I said with a grin.

He chuckled and asked, “Is it sharp?”

I opened the linen closet and reached for the strop hanging inside.

“Sharp as my tongue,” I sassed. 

“Wicked as your tongue,” he teased back.

I winked and swiped the blade down the strop several times. When I thought it was sharp enough, I stepped between his legs and leaned close.

“Hold still,” I told him before he closed his eyes.

Tilting his chin up, I took my first swipe. I wiped the razor on a towel and took another swipe. I’d finished the left side of his face when I felt my bathrobe loosen around me. Looking down, I saw the end of the belt in one of his hands. 

I didn’t say anything and started on the other side. Two swipes in and I felt his fingers on my stomach. I took another swipe as his fingers slid down.

“Keep that up and I might slip and cut your throat,” I warned.

“Ah, but what a way to go,” he said as his fingers slipped between my legs, expertly rubbing my clit.

“El...”

He opened his eyes and met mine. “I trust ya.”

The calm and confidence in his voice steadied me, and I hurriedly finished the right side. I made a face, flattening my upper lip, and he followed suit, so I could remove his moustache. I still had the area under his chin to finish.

“Spread your legs,” he said huskily.

I shook my head, chuckled and straddled his right leg. Wiping the razor clean, I tilted his chin further up and felt his fingers softly pulsing. With a few more strokes, I finished his shave and wiped the remaining shaving cream off with a warm wash cloth. 

I opened the bottle of aftershave and sprinkled some in my hand before patting it onto his cheeks.

“Smooth,” I said, cupping is face.

“Very,” he said as I felt his fingers slide from inside me.

Holding me against him, Eliot stood up, dropped the towel and lowered us to thick bathroom rug. He parted my bathrobe and kissed the space between my breasts, leaving a damp patch.

“Now let’s see if you taste as good as I smell,” he said before spreading me wide and dipping his head for a taste.

***

Later, I leaned against the bathroom door jam and watched him style his hair. He met my eyes in the bathroom mirror.

“What?” he asked, his eyes concerned.

I stepped closer and wrapped my arms around him, resting my cheek against his shoulder.

“I haven’t done this in a long time, so forgive me if I stumble over this.” He squeezed my hand and I continued. “I’m not seeing anyone else.”

“Hey,” he said. I looked back in the mirror to meet his eyes. “I ain't either.”

“And I don’t want to.”

“Me either,” he said softly. His thoughts washed over me and I knew we were feeling the same things.

“My life is...” I trailed off.

“Mine too,” he said with a soft chuckle.

He turned around and held me against him, his eyes focused on mine. 

“I think we’re doing okay,” he reassured me.

“Yeah, I think so too. We find time when we can.”

He kissed me tenderly, the tip of his tongue just touching my bottom lip. It was a promise of more and that was all we needed for the time being.

**Author's Note:**

>  _The Art of Shaving_ is a wonderful store I found in Boston. Makes me wish I could shave Eliot. (Swoon!)


End file.
